


The Wrong Soulmate

by pearconfident



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-29
Updated: 2021-02-05
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:55:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,283
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27271537
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pearconfident/pseuds/pearconfident
Summary: Hermione and Ron have been through a lot together, and even though their marks don't match, they've never dwelled on it. They loved each other, and first words and tattoos would never change that. But when Hermione stumbles upon the man who speaks her words, who has her mark, then everything changes. He's dark, mysterious, and exhilarating. How long will Hermione be able to hold out when she has to work with him every day?
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Tom Riddle
Comments: 26
Kudos: 356





	1. An Unexpected Meeting

**Author's Note:**

> Thinking of writing more but haven't decided yet. This is the only thing I've been able to write for months due to a terrible case of writers blocks, so please enjoy! If you guys like it and want the story continued, just let me know! I'm trying to get back in the swing of writing every day and posting more frequently.

When they'd gotten together, they promised that the tattoo's meant nothing, the words meant nothing. They were in love, and it didn't matter if their words didn't match. 

When they went out, they made sure their words were covered; the Prophet was constantly having photographers follow them. Neither of them wanted to give that rag another reason to write trash about them. 

Ron really seemed to think that they would make it through, regardless of anything. Their shared past was more important to him than some words he may not even hear in the future. Hermione tried her best to push her doubts out of her mind, to throw herself into their relationship wholeheartedly. Ron deserved nothing less; he tried so hard sometimes it hurt her to watch. He wanted to badly for their love to win, for their story to be better than just a few words, and so did she. 

But Hermione Granger has always had a way of attracting trouble, and nothing ever seemed to stay simple in her life for long.

* * *

"The world wasn't created equal." 

The words were spoken with an almost mocking tone, but there was nothing funny about the way her blood ran cold at the sound of them. She hesitated in her response, knowing that what she spoke next would be the deciding factor in it all. She decided her words carefully, wondering if they were tattooed on his skin as well. 

"Yes, it was." She tried to suppress the shudder that ran through her, "Then someone decided they were better."

He didn't show it, the shock, not as much as she did. But the slight widening of his eyes, the way his jaw slackened for a moment, the quickly controlled look of shock told her everything she needed to know. 

Everyone else in the meeting seemed to sense the change in the atmosphere and quickly concluded their business. No one knew, of course, no one even suspected. 

Hermione felt like she was stuck to her chair, unable to move even as everyone else filed out. It was the first time they'd spoken, though they'd passed each other for weeks at the Ministry. He'd made a point of ignoring her until today.

"Would you like to come to my office?" He asked, his face impassive as if they both hadn't had this jarring revelation together. 

Hermione only nodded, even though every fiber of her being screamed at her to leave. To go home to Ron and ignore everything. But despite the guilt that settled heavy and cold in her stomach, she collected her stuff and quietly followed him towards the office of International Magical Cooperation. No one batted an eye at the two department heads as they walked, it wasn't uncommon for different departments to work together, but Hermione could barely look up from her feet. She was frozen with icy terror because this wasn't supposed to happen. 

He wasn't supposed to happen. It wasn't fair.

As they approached the door to his office, it sent another surge of guilt through her. Just seeing his name emblazoned on the door, it was like the universe was taunting her. 

International Magical Cooperation Department Head:   
Tom Marvolo Riddle Jr.

  
"Can I see?" He asked, and he didn't need to elaborate. He wanted to see her words, the words that had haunted her for longer than she cared to admit. 

The world wasn't created equal.

Unique words, to be sure, and scary for someone as idealistic as her. She wanted to scream at him, to yell, to tell him no. Hermione wanted to shove him away from her; she wanted to cry. Because she had a life, she had a man who she loved and who loved her back. They'd made a home together, a cozy place that was always seemingly filled with Weasleys and her books. Hermione had even relented on a Chudley Cannons poster, despite how garish she found the color. She had a soulmate already, but she unclasped the bracelet on her wrist regardless.

His touch was warm, and she hated how it made her feel as he held her wrist and analyzed the words tattooed there.

The world wasn't created equal.

"Can I see yours?" She finally spoke when his silent assessment grew to be too much. 

His words were situated right below his ribs, and Hermione blushed when he pushed his shirt up to show her. She wouldn't let herself touch him, couldn't, but her fingers did ghost across the words imprinted in his skin. 

Yes, it was. Then someone decided they were better.

"I'm engaged." She said dumbly, not sure what else to say when she straightened up and tore her eyes from his torso. 

"I know." 

"I-" She tried to say something else, anything to fill in the deafening silence that pervaded them, but she didn't have a chance.

He kissed her. 

It was fast and unexpected; one moment, he was across the room, and the next, his warm hands were holding her face while his lips brushed over hers. It was nice, objectively; he was warm and gentle. His lips made her want to melt, but she didn't

She jerked away and slapped him as hard as she could. 

He didn't react well.

Just as quickly as he had kissed her, he shoved her hard into the bookcase behind her. He held her shoulders tightly in place so she couldn't move, so she couldn't run. His always perfect hair fell into his face a bit, and it scared her. He always looked perfect, always stoic and impassive. But now he was anything, but; she could feel the anger radiating off him in waves. 

"I'm engaged." She said again, hoping he'd understand. 

Being this close to him scared her. Not because she thought he'd hurt her; he couldn't do it right in the center of the Ministry without being found out. But because it made her feel something. Every part of her was on fire; her legs wanted to buckle just so she could fall into his arms. She wanted to kiss him again, and the guilt that rose within her like bile scorched her throat. How could she betray Ron like this? She'd left home this morning thinking about some bill she couldn't even remember now, about the vacation with Harry and Ginny they'd been planning. And in less than 4 hours, she'd completely unraveled her sanity. 

"You're mine."

Her mind went blank at that, her mouth opening and closing but sound refusing to produce itself. His? They'd only just spoken for the first time, and he thought he had any right to claim her?

"Like hell I am." She finally ground out, anger settling in her bones beside her guilt-ridden longing. 

"Hermione," His tone was warning, and she was curious at what he thought he could do to convince her. She then desperately tried to push those thoughts out of her mind because they really didn't help her deepening guilt. 

"Leave him."

"For you? A man I spoke to for the first time barely an hour ago?" He seemed annoyed at her reluctance like it was such a simple thing to do. That leaving the man she'd devoted years to at the drop of a hat, his hat should've been an easy choice. 

"We are meant to be together." 

"I can't." Her voice sounded so tortured now, and she hated the hopeful look it gave him.

"How can you just ignore those words on your arm?" He quirked an eyebrow and relaxed his grip slightly, but he didn't let her go just yet. He kept himself pressed against her, holding her to the bookshelf so she couldn't get away from him just yet. 

"I've been through so much with him." She admitted, and he regarded her for a moment. 

"Your mine." He said again, and she hated how her pulse fluttered at the words.

She hated everything right then, the whole damn world. If there was a God, she wished she could rip him from the heavens and punish him for everything he'd ever done to her. Hermione knew that life wasn't fair, but it didn't have to be so exceedingly unfair at every turn, either. Staring into the dark brown eyes of Tom Riddle, seeing the engagement ring that Ron had given her contrasted against the black of Tom's suit. It made her want to vomit, or throw herself off the roof, or burn something. Everything was so fucking unfair. Because she knew that the words mattered, they always had. She'd convinced herself, and Ron, that they didn't. But that was when she thought she'd never find the one who would say them, or that they would deny her. They'd deny her, she'd regain her sense, and then she could go on about her life with Ron. But no, the universe had to place this man right in her path. And make him so fucking possessive that a few black lines would mean she belonged to him. 

She didn't realize that she was crying until he raised his hand to wipe the tears off her cheeks. 

"Talk," It was a simple request, but the way he said it was a command. 

He wanted to know what was running through her mind, but how could she verbalize any of it? Tom was no one to her; she'd only just met him. And yet she found herself relaxing in his arms, resting on him, and spilling her secrets so easily. 

"The world is unfair." 

He let out a laugh at that, a deep laugh that made a smile tug at her lips despite every other feeling flooding her brain. 

"You're only just figuring that out now?" His tone was teasing, and he smirked down his nose at her now. She hated how handsome he looked with such a smug look on his face. 

"It's being particularly unfair right now." 

"How so?" 

Hermione sighed, "Because I already love someone," suddenly stiffening in his arms as she remembered herself. "And yet, here you are." 

"You're mine." He repeated once again, and Hermione hated how he kept saying that.

"You don't even know me." She wasn't sure if she sounded angry or desperate, but either way, it didn't matter. They both knew she was looking for an excuse as to why they should forget it all.

"I think I know you better than anyone you've ever met."

"How, how could you? You've only just met me."

"Because we are supposed to be together, and I've been paying attention to you, Hermione Granger." The way he looked at her was disconcerting, but she didn't entirely hate it. Which only made her hate herself more.

"Why should you deny yourself the chance to find out, to truly know if these words mean anything?" 

His question hung in the air, and she wanted to scream back; Because I can't play with other people's hearts like that! Because I have a man who loves me, a good man, and I can't be so reckless with him.

"It doesn't matter what I want," He raised an eyebrow at her admission, "I can't be so cruel to Ron, I can't. Not after everything." 

"But you can be so cruel to yourself? To me?" 

She dropped her head to his shoulder now; the sadness that filled her now was exhausting. She couldn't tell Ron about Tom because he'd be jealous, and reasonably so. She couldn't continue to work with him because she wasn't sure how she was supposed to be in the same room with him and pretend she wasn't drawn to him like a moth to a flame. She wondered how he must feel, and it surprised her to think of the utter desolation she'd feel if their situations were reversed. And now her heart hurt for him too. 

"No matter what I do, I'm cruel." She whispered into his coat, and his arms wrapped around her even tighter. His hands were splayed across her back, and she relished in the warmth they provided. 

"Then why not be happy?" 

"I'm not sure that I would be." She was honest; she had no idea if Tom would make her happy. She also wasn't sure if pretending he didn't exist would bring her happiness. Everything was so uncertain now. She hated how five simple words had completely unnerved her, completely changed her life. 

"I'd be able to make you happy." The way he said it was so self-assured that Hermione had to strain herself in an effort not to laugh in his face. 

"The arrogance," She began, but the smirk that had risen on his face like her disbelief was a challenge stopped her, "If you say it's because we are meant to be, I will hex you through the bloody wall." 

"I've been watching you, Hermione, and I am a very observant man." 

"That's not creepy at all, Tom." The snort that accompanied her words sounded harsher than she meant it too, but it didn't faze the man who was holding her tighter than Devil's Snare. She didn't even stop to contemplate the potential double meaning of her comparison. 

"You're smart, smarter than most everyone else we work with." His smirk seemed to be cemented in place as he began, "But you're ruled with a sense of idealism that's almost overbearing a true bleeding-heart. You also like a challenge, and no offense darling, but I don't think you've been properly challenged in a long time."

Hermione turned red at his words and their double meanings. He was so cutting with his assessment of her that it felt cutting, especially of her recent life. She missed the challenges of the war but refused to admit it to anyone. She missed the intellectual challenges she'd had in school because there wasn't much outside the Weasley's, Quidditch, and Harry that she and Ron talked about. He was right about it all. 

The thought brought anger and something else up from deep within her, and she stared back into Tom Riddle's black eyes with the same force he'd fixed her with.

"I think that you know I'm right." 

"I am engaged." She repeated again, at a loss for how to lie to him when he could seemingly read her thoughts in her eyes. 

"I give it a week." 

With that, he dropped his tight grip on her and strolled over to his desk, that arrogant smirk she now associated with him gracing his face the entire way. He said nothing else as a sat down and returned to his work; Hermione turned on her heel and threw open his office door with a bang. Everyone in his department turned to stare at her, but she didn't care now. She was furious. She stomped back to her office before collapsing behind her own desk, where she promptly dissolved into tears. She was determined to prove him wrong.

She did, but she also didn't. 

* * *

Two weeks, it had taken two weeks. 

She hated herself for it, but Hermione couldn't lie and say that it was all Tom's doing. There had been cracks in her relationship with Ron for some time, but she'd been ignoring them out of some sense of duty she had. She'd survived a war with him, his family was like her own, and the thought of not being the same part of it all that she was is terrifying. But if Hermione had to hear one more rant about the flying tactics of the Chudley Cannons bloody seeker, she might throw herself out the window. Ron wasn't stupid; he just channeled his intelligence into things that Hermione couldn't give a flying hippogriff about. He hated it as much as she did when she tried to debate a complicated law from work or a hotly contested experimental charm. Their common interests went about as far as his family and Harry. 

It didn't help that Tom Riddle seemed on the warpath of convincing her that he could be everything she wanted and more. He supported her proposals even if he'd been fighting against them for months, he gave her space she obviously wanted, and just watched her in a way that she hadn't decided was creepy or endearing. And if he owled one more obscure book on magical history to her office during work hours, she was going to shoot down the bloody owl before it reached her threshold. Just on principle, she wore her old engagement ring, now devoid of any meaning or promise, to every meeting she had with him for a week after she and Ron decided that they shouldn't be together anymore. 

She liked the way his eyes darkened, and his temper shortened when she fiddled with it. Tom Riddle didn't allow anything to have power over him, but Hermione had realized that the fact she wasn't easily submitting to him was beginning to grate on him. Hermione knew that she wouldn't hold out forever, as much as she wished she could, so she decided to torture him a bit before she returned to him. 

Soon, she found her patience growing thin because he was paying such close attention; he seemed to know things about her that she herself even didn't. He played on her intelligence, her need for challenge, the deep-seated need to help anyone and everyone, and he was bloody gorgeous. He was tall, dark, and handsome. Tom Riddle had cheekbones that looked to be carved out of marble, dark eyes that were as tantalizing as they were terrifying, and his pale skin reminded her of porcelain. It wasn't fair. But Hermione was beginning to learn that that was just how he liked it. She knew that if they did attempt a relationship, everything would be a contest; every conversation, every kiss, every work project. The two of them would play off each other, battle each other, and she was surprised to find she didn't hate the idea. 

She'd been watching Tom as closely as he'd been watching her, and she'd learned quickly. He was someone that others feared, and they had good reason. She saw the way his eyes would darken, and his knuckles would clench for a fraction of a second when someone questioned or challenged him. Hermione knew the cool tendrils of dark magic very well, the war had taught her well, and her skin sometimes prickled when he was around. She knew he wasn't the Ministry Poster-Boy he pretended to be, but it only drew her in further. He was a complex puzzle that she yearned to solve, and she knew she'd have the chance. Her only worry was what she would find at the end of his rabbit hole. 

"You can go right in," His pretty blonde secretary tittered at her, quickly returning to the parchment in front of her. Hermione had to wonder if he expected her today, or if he'd told his secretary to let her in no matter what. Neither would've really surprised her.

"Tom," He didn't look up from the file in front of him when she entered or closed the door, but his gaze shot to hers when he heard his name.

"Hello, Ms. Granger." 

"I was hoping to chat." 

"By all means, take a seat." That smirk was returning now, and Hermione tried hard not to return it with a smile.

He leaned back in his desk chair; the folder that had once enraptured him now cast aside like a mere distraction. She watched as he took her in, his eyes flitting across her body and straining to search for the ring that usually occupied her hand. She'd taken it off that morning, owling it back to Ron, and Tom noticed immediately. 

"Trouble in paradise?" The words didn't match the almost gleeful tone of his voice. 

"Of course not," She replied with a smile and relished in the wave in his smirk.

"So, Ms. Granger," His cold mask rose again as he watched her, "How can I help you?" 

"The Centaur Rights Proposal going through the Wizengamot tomorrow, I want it to pass." 

"Unfortunately, I am not on the Wizengamot. And even if I was, why would I care if you wanted it to pass?"

"Engagement presents are traditional," His eyes darkened at that, "But I thought you'd like to give me a broken engagement present. If I was wrong, I could go." 

"Broken engagement?" He stood from his seat and came around to lean against the front of his desk, eyes boring down at each other.

"Ronald and I found that we don't have quite the necessary requirements for a successful marriage," Hermione couldn't hide her smile now, "And thus found our relationship quite unnecessary."

"I thought there wasn't trouble in paradise?" 

"Well, it doesn't seem troubled in here, does it?" He barked a laugh in response. 

"So, you've finally accepted that you're mine?" 

"Oh no, I've decided to give you a chance." She stood from her chair, stepping closer to him. His hands came to rest on her hips as he watched her face. 

"And the Centaur Rights Proposal?" 

"It would be a wonderful gift." 

"Why're you so sure I can give it to you?" He really did seem curious now, though the lazy smile on his face told her that he wasn't overly perturbed by her request.

"Because Tom," She cuddles up closer to him, winding her arms around his neck, "I've been watching you very closely."

"What about democracy, my darling idealist?" 

"The world wasn't created equal," He smiled at her words, "But maybe I can make it a bit more bearable by using my advantages." 

"You're mine." He growled before crashing his lips onto hers. His fingers were threaded in her curls, and he held her to him with a bruising force. 

Hermione knew there was no going back now, but she wasn't too worried. Tom treated her like an equal, and she knew that that meant something. 


	2. A Close Vote

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione watches as Tom ensures their latest policy proposal before the Wizengamot is passed when unforeseen complications arise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not really making this a full-fledged story, but I really enjoy writing for these two, so I wanted to add some more. Thanks so much for reading this, you guys; it means the world to me! 
> 
> Also, this is all written and edited by me, so there are probably mistakes :) I'm trying my best though!

Her heart pounded in time with the sound of her heels purposefully clicking across the marble floors of the Ministry. As fast as she dared, Hermione was running towards Tom’s office in hopes of averting a political catastrophe. 

Archibald Huxley had backed out of their proposal for reworking finance regulations regarding the Ministry’s internal domestic budgets at the last minute. While sounding quite dull, if the proposal passed, it would give Tom more power over departmental budgets than any previous Minister had ever had. He would control the flow of money into parts of the Ministry that he deemed necessary, something he desperately wanted.

Despite Tom’s position as Chief Warlock on the Wizengamot, there was little he could do to alter the Wizengamot’s final decision without a majority vote. And Huxley had over 12 other Wizengamot members in his pocket ready to walk when he did; it would destroy their chances of getting the proposal passed.

Tom would be livid over its now uncertain future, and Hermione was trying her best to fix it all in the last half hour before the Wizengamot convened. Despite her hesitations over the policy proposal, she’d put all her faith in Tom Riddle and couldn’t afford for him to lose a foot of ground now, and not to Archibald Huxley of all people. 

She’d all but ordered Huxley to meet her in Tom’s office, something he wasn’t pleased with at all. But now she was running late, praying her heeled feet could get her to the office before Tom  _ tore _ Huxley apart. Hermione cursed the large Ministry building with every breath as she pushed forward.

When she finally stopped in front of Tom’s office, his assistant was crying at her desk.

“Romilda, what happened?” Hermione was out of breath, panting out each word as she watched the crying girl.

“The Minister- He- he- well, and then Huxley- I just- He was so rude.”

Hermione shot her apologetic smile before leaving behind the upset girl; she had no time to try to figure out what had happened. Huxley was here, with Tom,  _ alone _ . And that wasn’t good.

She cracked open the door as quietly as she could, but the silencing charm on the door must’ve been strong because the sounds of Tom shouting reached out into the hallway and echoed back at her.

Hermione quickly stepped in, shutting and warding the door further. They  _ really _ didn’t need everyone hearing Tom and his increasingly imaginative threats towards the short, plump Huxley.

“You insolent,  _ fool _ ,” The anger was radiating off Tom in waves as he sneered down at the man, “Do you have any idea what will happen if this proposal doesn’t pass?”

Hermione knew Tom well, well enough to feel the flickering touch of his magic filling the room. She didn’t want to think of what it all meant, but it felt dark and suffocating. How Huxley hadn’t noticed it was beyond her because she could sense it  _ everywhere _ .

“ _ Riddle _ ,” Huxley started, puffing up his chest. “Just because you are Minister for Magic does not mean that you get whatever you want.”

Hermione was almost certain she saw the muscle in Tom’s jaw twitch in anger like he was holding himself back from physically tearing into the man.

“This proposal is of great concern to many on the Wizengamot, and my vote is my own. If your proposal doesn’t pass, then you shall have to deal with the consequences yourself.”

“Consequences, Huxley?” Tom was strangely calm now, “What do you know of consequences?”

“Excuse me-“

“Should I ask all of those working girls in Knockturn Alley if you’ve ever known the consequences of your actions?”

“I have no idea-“

“Of course, it is  _ hard _ to get dead women to talk. Isn’t it, Huxley?”

Hermione’s breath caught in her throat as she watched Huxley’s eyes get wide and his face turned a darker shade of red. She wasn’t sure how, but Tom was  _ right _ .

“You are mistaken, sir.” Huxley’s voice was far less convincing than his words hoped to be.

“See, Huxley, your mistake wasn’t in  _ how  _ you hid your perverse predilections.” Tom looked like a cat toying with a mouse, eyes dark and honed in on his prey.

“It was thinking you could hide them from me at all.”

Huxley stood silent, eyes darting between Hermione and Tom as he tried to calculate his next words carefully.

“Minister, I think you are mistaken-“

“I  _ know _ you’re lying to me, Huxley.”

“No, sir-“ Huxley was sweating now, tense and eyes darting around the room looking for any means of escape.

“Do you know how I know?”

It felt like the room itself held its breath, waiting for Tom’s next words.

“Because I’ve been having you followed for weeks now,” Tom was smiling now, “And pictures don’t lie.”

Hermione took a couple of quiet steps back until her back rested against the wall. The cool surface was bleeding through her blouse, helping to bring her back to reality. She hadn’t quite expected  _ that _ when she came into the room. Tom had connections; obviously, he was the Minister for Magic. Hermione just wasn’t quite ready for his brand of  _ diplomacy _ , which usually revolved around blackmail and threats. And while she couldn’t lie and say it didn’t get the job done, it wasn’t what she’d dreamed of when she started working in government.

“-vote in support of  _ my _ proposal, and you can retire without charges.” Tom’s voice dragged her out of her daydream.

“But if you continue down this  _ reckless _ path to challenge my authority, you won’t make it to Wizengamot floor today.”

“Of course, Minister Riddle.” Huxley had a fake smile plastered on his face as he slowly backed towards the door, like a frightened animal escaping a predator. 

“Your proposal will pass, I guarantee it.” And with that, Huxley fled the room, the sound of Romilda’s crying the only noise in the hallway before the door shut once more.

“What was that?” Hermione sounded slightly stunned.

“I fixed our problem.”

“But- How-“

“Huxley is a  _ swine _ ,” Tom was sitting at his desk like normal, but his voice was still angry, “He deserves far worse than I gave him.”

“Then why didn’t you?” Hermione asked quietly, far more intrigued with Tom’s perceived mercy than what had happened moments earlier.

“I would gladly kill him.” Tom wasn’t paying attention to her, just staring off through the windows overlooking the Atrium.

“Why didn’t you?” Her voice was stronger now, louder, and broke him out of his reverie.

“You have no idea how much I’ve been holding myself back for you.”

Hermione’s heart skipped a beat as she looked at him. For once, he seemed so  _ real _ , so unguarded, so honest that she had no other option than to believe him. She moved around the desk to lean on it, looking down to where he sat in his chair.

“Why do you?”

“Because you’re  _ mine _ ,” The same possessiveness he’d always shown flaring up once more, but he seemed to hesitate to say more.

“And you’re all I have.”

His words once again stunned her to silence. 

Hermione knew that he had few friends and no family to speak of. She was his fiancée, and he spent most of his time with her or at work. Despite that, she’d never seen him vulnerable, not that he was  _ vulnerable _ now, but he was less guarded. And she knew not to take that for granted.

“I love you.” Her fingers ghosted through his black hair, trying to convey her love in her every touch.

They sat like that a moment, relishing in the silent comfort of their touch. Tom seemed to relax slightly, as much as he ever did, and it brought a smile to her lips. Knowing she could see this  _ terrifying _ man like this, could pull him apart at his seams, and then put him back together made her feel powerful.

Knowing that he thought of the future in terms of  _ us  _ instead of _ I _ was intoxicating. Hermione knew Tom saw her as his equal, or as close to an equal as he thought he could have. And she was determined not to betray the trust he’d so obviously given her. She needed to be just as devoted and ruthless as he was.

It was a decision, much like when she’d agreed to marry him. A decision she knew was going to change her world, alter the way she saw things, and one she’d never be able to come back from. And much like when she’d agreed to marry Tom, it didn’t take her but a second to decide what she was going to do.

“After the vote,” Her voice was soft, and Tom’s eyes snapped to hers, “Huxley should have an  _ accident _ .”

“Are you sure?” Tom’s voice was measured, eyeing her as if she was a book he could get answers from just by staring at the page.

“He needs a more  _ permanent _ solution than retirement.”

“Of course, darling.” Tom smiled, his fingers wrapping around her wrist in a gentle hold.

There was a knock at the door, but neither of them moved an inch.

“Yes?” Tom called lazily, turning his gaze slowly to the door.

“The Wizengamot is meeting in ten minutes, Sir.” Romilda sniffed before quietly shutting the door once more.

“We should go,” Hermione told him softly once the door closed.

Tom chuckled, “I wouldn’t miss Huxley’s  _ swan song _ for the world, Darling.” 

Hermione expected to feel guilt, but she didn’t. Instead, she linked her arm with her fiancés and began the long walk to the Wizengamot chamber with a small smile on her face.

Huxley was getting what he deserved, and Hermione couldn’t find a way to feel bad about it at all.


End file.
